


a disappearance gathering weight

by LadyVisenya



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Gen, M/M, its very rough so ill probably go back and fix it, there might be more relationships as the story goes on, this is the most ive written in months so be gentle with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 21:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVisenya/pseuds/LadyVisenya
Summary: “Look, I’m not being a pretentious asshole here. I like Katy Perry as much as the next guy, but I’m fucking sick of you dancing to the same song and splashing me with water,” Eddie Kaspbrak yelled at Richie and Beverly.Richie splashed him with water, snorting at Eddie’s outraged face, growing more and more red by the second. “No one fucking likes Katy Perry Eddiekins, it’s not 2012.”it supernatural au





	1. winter ghosts

_1718_

“Zachariah,” the pastor hissed as he stopped one of the town’s councilmen from leaving the church, pulling him aside by the arm and trying his best to look natural as the rest of the families passed by, even smiling as John Marsh and his second wife went by, a gaggle of children trailing them. The people were scared. They wanted answers and a return to their idilic life, the life they had travelled across an ocean to the news world for. “There have been two more disappearances since your son! Something must be done!”

William couldn’t help but flinch. His brother had gone out to get more water from the well as he laid bedridden with fever. It had been a week and his family had feared that it would never break. He’d gone out to the well and never returned.

Despite the search parties, no signs of anything were found.

That had been in October.

Just last week the pastor’s niece had disappeared.

Elizabeth Ripsom had been a lovely girl, spending her time in the schoolhouse teaching children to read with more patience than most parents had, helping children like Georgie hold their hands stead while holding the chalk all so they could spell their name. She had gathered the last flowers of summer and laid them on his brother’s empty grave; had held his hand while he tried to hold the tears back in public, hands clammy and shaking and so so angry. Nothing had felt like enough then and it hadn’t felt like enough now.

People didn’t just disappear off the face of the earth with no trace. It was a small town and William refused to believe that no one saw anything. There had to be somewhere they hadn’t looked.

“Something is being done,” his father calmly replied, in that same clipped tone that left no room for argument, carrying the weight of an education and a seat on the town’s council with it. It was a tone William had grown up hearing as he father often forgot how to turn it off.

It had always been a source of strife between his parents as his mother had to constantly remind his father that she was his wife not some villager.

The pastor pursed his lips, folding his hands in front of him, knuckles white, “the people have been saying-there have been rumors that there might be a vamp-“

“And that’s just what they are,” Zachariah said archly, pulling away from the pastor, “rumors. I would think a learned man of the church would know better than to give credence to the rumors of the hoi polloi.” He often employed a latin phrase or two when he was trying to put someone in their place, sternly reminding them to mind their tongue.

He had heard those rumors true, had tried to breach the subject with his father only to be shut down immediately and sent to read the bible for the rest of the sunlit hours for his troubles. Not that William had actually believed any of the nonsense about witches carrying off children, or indians kidnapping townsfolk to eat, but a _rumor_ was better than nothing.

And he was aware, like his father most likely was, that Pastor Andrew Ripson had been preaching those very same rumors, urging people to band together and find the witches responsible.

“I was simply suggesting-“

“I know what you were suggesting,” Zachariah sneered, clapping his son around the shoulder, “what example are we giving to our children if were go around on witch hunts, fearing every shadow for a demon or worse. This isn’t the old world, we are not in Europe any longer. It is the age of Enlightenment Andrew, as learned men we must set an example for everyone.”

He glanced meaningfully as Will, meeting his gaze for the first time in weeks. Ever since George had gone _missing_ , his father had spent more time locked in his study then with his family, taking all his meals there as well.

“Lovely as your words are,” Andrew replied scathingly, “they are just that, words. Children don’t just vanish on their own.”

“As I said, the council is looking into it.” He nodded, “Good day to you Andrew,” walking past them both and exiting the building without another glance back, tension clear in the lines of his Sunday suit. It didn’t help that his mother hadn’t starched the jackets and shirts since October, nearly four months ago.

Andrew clasped Will’s arm before he could make an escape behind his father, the fact that he had to practice his words in his head over and over, to save his father the embarrassment, didn’t help. “Do take care of yourself William.”

“I wuh-will S-sir.”

“And try to speak to your father,” he said, all the angry leaking out of him, drained, he looked like a feeble old man instead of the pastor who spoke about the bible in such a captivating way that the children listened. “I know how hard the loss of a child can be, especially when you have such few,” he continued, cleaning his spectacles, sipping them over and over again. “I loved Elizabeth like a daughter, especially since my children left for Fort Portland and Boston. She was always happy to bake and share with those less fortunate, a good Christian. And I know you were sweet on her-“

Which isn’t true at all.

William had always liked her. They had been friends, often talking at the boring dinners they often ended up in together where the adults would make them sit and listen while also ignoring them. He wants to correct him, but his tongue feels heavy and dry in his mouth and it’s not the time or place. Not when the Ripson’s clearly still have hope that she may be found.

After all, it had only been a week.

“-do remember what I said,” the Pastor said as the walked out of the church.

Will nodded and replied, “of course,” even though he hadn’t caught any of it, stuck mulling over his own thoughts, had not even noticed that they had made their way outside.

“And come to dinner tomorrow,” he added. “Mr. Gray will be joining us as well and he had a great deal of interesting stories after having been in Philadelphia and the motherland of course.”

“Huh?”

“Let me introduce you to him right now!” The man said leading William along over to where his mother and the Pastor’s family were waiting for them on this cold dreary day in January. The sun had hardly shone through this while week.

Susanna Denbrough had become a quite and teary eyed woman in the past few months, drifting from room to room, approaching George’s room, before going back to sit on her rocking chair for the rest of the day. It was a drastic change from the woman William had known to be his mother, who had chased both brothers through the fields, scrubbing the dirt off his face, and sending him to pick wild lavender to press between clothes on washing day.

Now she did the washing, with a far away look in her eyes, as if Georgie might appear out of the tall wheat any moment.

“This is just the young man I’ve been telling you about,” Mr. Ripsom said, as if Will wasn’t there, “Young Mr. Dnebrough will be venturing from out small enclave to Princeton, that new university, where an old schoolmate of mine is lecturing on the classics.”

“There is nothing like the great classics,” the man said, his voice as deep as the Derry lake, with a softness that was not reflected in his sharp features. “The very root of our civilization.” He smiled, extending a hand to William who had the urge to run, a shiver going down his spine as he shook the man’s hand. “I’m Robert, Robert Gray.” Skin much too cold, even under the thick winter coats that were necessary in the Derry winters. Unlike their own humble sheep’s wool coats, Robert had on a sleek fox furred coat, as dark as his prominent eyes were blue. “Pleased too meet you,” he added after a pause.

“L-likewise,” William added, not feeling the least bit pleased. The rumors of vampires came to his mind then, like a puzzle piece fitting together, unbidden. But it was day, and the man had been at church.

Nonsensical rumors like his father had said.

“-he’s been feeling better and I’m sure the word of the lord has done much to improve his health,” Mr. Ripsom rambled on, a cat with a bowl of cream, loving every inch of attention hosting such an interesting man in his home.

“Very much so,” Robert smiled, lacking all warmth, “but then rarely is there such a vessel for the word of the lord.”

“You’re much too kind to me.”

For once, the word come out easily, “As much of a pl-pleasure as it is tuh-to meet you, I m-must be going home, it is the sabbath after all.”

“Ah yes, don’t let us keep you.”

*

His mother gripped his arm, fingers digging into his arm like the metal fastenings on his father’s study. She was trembling.

A surge of guilt went through him as he pictured his poor mother waiting in the cold for him to walk with her to their home.

She had slept in front of the fire since his brother had gone missing, blaming his father for not doing enough to bring her baby boy back to her. Where William was her oldest surviving child, George was her baby. And now her baby was gone under the towns watch.

He blamed himself for being sick, for not being able to go with his brother, for not being there to keep his brother safe. It never would have happened if he hadn’t gotten sick.

“Pastor Ripsom has invited us over for dinner tomorrow,” Will told her, hoping she would be up to go out. A change of scenery might help her feel better even if only for a short time. Dwelling in despair wasn’t doing either of them any favors. Will also dreaded going alone, he doubted his father would go after their exchange in the church.

“Mmm,” was the only acknowledgment he got from her.

Sighing, William wished there was something he could do for her. Never had he felt so useless in his life. And by this time next year he wouldn’t be here anymore and then what would happen to his poor mother.

“How do you think he’s doing it? It must be so cold out there,” she whispered, halting their steps as she gazed past the general store into the forest behind the Marsh’s garden, barren from the winter frost.

Wisely, he said nothing.

“He’s a smart boy. But I worry for him anyway,” she went on, voice breaking on the last word. Even his mother didn’t quite buy her baseless hopes.

Still, he hoped she was right.

Perhaps indians had found Georgie, after he had gotten lost. A tribe had passed by in the fall, trading dried buffalo and pelts for beads, glass, and other goods they sought out. They could have found him after he’d-he had gotten lost in the woods. Must have taken him in and cared for him.

He could live without seeing his brother if that was the case.

*

The fire had gone out by the time the made it to their house.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the story will alternate between time periods. i have most of the 1718 timeline written and a draft of 2019. thoughts?


	2. i am (not) a white teeth teen.

_**2019** _

“Look, I’m not being a pretentious asshole here. I like Katy Perry as much as the next guy, but I’m fucking sick of you dancing to the same song and splashing me with water,” Eddie Kaspbrak yelled at Richie and Beverly.

Richie splashed him with water, snorting at Eddie’s outraged face, growing more and more red by the second. “No one fucking likes Katy Perry Eddiekins, it’s not 2012.”

“Then quit dancing to Hot and cold!”

“Make me!”

For good measure, Beverly added, “the playlist is _dance like its 2012_ , what are we supposed to do? Skip it? Use one of our precious six an hour skips on this bop? That’s just not economical.” She took a sip of her beer can, stained cherry red from her lipstick.

Eddie huffed, outraged and angry and-

Stan shoved him in the pool, “I think I made it worse,” he snarked, as Eddie swam up, ready to yell once more. Eddie was always ready to yell and unfortunately his bite was just as bad as his bark. “Now you’ll both smell like wet dog.”

“Ha ha, very funny Stan,” Eddie scowled, “the dog jokes got old in eighth grade.”

Sometimes, he missed when his friends _didn’t_ know he was a werewolf. Now Richie and Beverly had made a game of pissing him off, like he could just turn, the moon wasn’t even out. It’s not even close to the full moon.

Technically they were helping since he _should_ be able to change at will by his age, but it just pissed him off.

“You need to chill,” Richie said, “Netflix and chill, that is.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively for good measure, squinting in order to see Eddie since he didn't have his glasses on. Fucking Richie.

“Did you mean weed,” Beverly said, swimming over to them, careful to keep her beer above the water. Unlike Richie who had destroyed the bag of chips Ben had brought over for them, or rather, his mom had packed for them. But Ben was too busy eating Mike’s hummus creations and pretending they were just as good as chips and cheetos to eat any.

Stan snorted, sliding his feet into the water, while pulling his long sleeves down over his hands. It was a habit he had picked up after trying to stop flapping his arms whenever he got excited. “It this going to be another oregano incident?”

“Shut the fuck up bird boy!”

Beverly burst into laughter, grinning up at Stan, “tell us the story again! I love hearing it!”

“You only like hearing it because you’re the girl feeling Richie oregano,” Mike said as Mike and Ben finally joined them in the pool. Only around them, did Ben feel comfortable enough to take off his shirt and go swimming, not that here was anyone else inviting any of them.

None of them had ever been popular, and high school had changed nothing. They were still losers, but they had each other. Among themselves, they could be honest about who and what they were, and that was more important than having a thousand instagram followers like Greta.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she grinned at her brother, putting her empty can on the side of the pool, “ ’s not my fault Richie’s such a dumbass.”

“Beverly,” Mike chastised without any real heat, wading over to his boyfriend’s side. Mike and Ben, to no one’s surprise, had become a thing since last year, right after AP testing. Neither of them had uttered a word about how it happened, simply smiling fondly.

“How did your research go,” Stan asked Ben.

He sighed, “Bad. No one kept records in ye olden days and whats worse is that what little there is is written in cursive, which is hard to read, no offense Stan.”

Stan had joined the Calligraphy Club in freshman year and would be president once the school year started. They had all tried going for support, but Beverly, Richie, and Eddie could be really loud and annoying and calligraphy necessitated peace and quiet, and Richie not sneaking up behind people only to do voices in their ears like that wasn't going to get him hit. 

It was a small club, only five people who mostly sat in silence or with some quiet music playing, but those same members had showed up to the meetings of the bird watching club back in last year.

“It’s fine,” Stan said, smiling, “it takes a refined eye to read cursive.”

“Ooooh, burn,” Richie said.

“Oh fuck off Richie,” Eddie said, pouncing on him, shoving him under water.

“Remind us why you’re working on A history of Derry when it’s summer? The summer before senior year,” Beverly asked, floating on her back, sunglasses covering her eyes. Richie’s parents were the best by virtue of having a swimming pool.

Shrugging Ben told her, “I like history. I know I haven’t lived here as long as you or Mike or hell, even Eddie, but it feels like home.”

“And there’s no history book on Derry,” Beverly smirked.

“That too,” Ben smiled.

“Tell her about the Library program,” Mike encouraged his boyfriend.

“I don’t think they-“

“Oh we do,” Stan said.

“Well, the library has a scholarship open for volunteers who’ve logged like two hundred hours, it’s not much but it’ll help since I want to go to mainly private universities.”

“Fucking nerd,” Richie said, having pried Eddie off of him, not without both of them scratching the other up. Werewolves heal fast so it didn’t really matter.

“Where will you be going Richie,” Stan smirked, “Derry Community?”

Shamelessly Richie nodded, “it’s where all the best people go?”

“Yeah right,” Eddie snorted, “you got an A in calc freaking nerd like I’m nowhere close to calc and I’m a thousand percent sure I studied more than you and you had to run from Bowers before he got to stuff you in a locker like this was still the 1980s and did that even happen in real life or is that just a hollywood thing?!?”

“Breathe Eddie,” Mike uttered, smiling brightly. With Mike, you could never really tell if he was helping or if he was _helping_. The dude already radiated such a peaceful and happy aura.

“Should have told them to meet you for a fistfight on a full moon night,” Beverly added.

“Are you kidding! My parents would ground me for life and they don’t even believe in grounding like they’re such hippies Bev, I can’t be grounded for the rest of my life, I’d die or boredom.”

“Can we not talk about those dicks when its summer and we don’t have to see them,” Ben asked, laying back to float alongside Beverly, his first friend in Derry.

“Oh, mood.”

“Not, everything’s a mood Richie,” Stan sighed, pulling down his shirt sleeves.

*

There was pizza on the table when they finally came inside long after the sun had gone down, the good kind of pizza, homemade and filling the house with the smell of fresh bread.

Maggie Tozier leaned on the counter, a glass of wine in hand and her laptop in front of her, fingers moving fast across the keyboard. “Your dad made pizza,” she said fondly, before looking up at the group, “and there’s a gluten free, dairy free one too Edward.”

Sheepishly, Eddie automatically said, “thanks Mrs. Tozier,” hand already reaching for the cheesy monstrosity his mother would never hear about.

“It’s Maggie.”

“Yeah Maggie,” Richie said. “Where’s Wentworth?”

“Busy coding in his office,” sheanswered, closing her laptop and putting her glass of wine down. “His deadline’s tomorrow and he spent all week writing his D&D character for Saturday instead of just getting on with it.”

The Tozier’s always played D&D on Saturday’s, family game night. It all went back to how the couple had met. It used to be just any old board game when Richie was younger. Something he could play and understand enough to win. Maggie much preferred puzzles, which explained the many puzzles that decorated the walls.

Beverly loved Richie’s mom from her eyebrow piercing and nature inspired tattoo sleeve to how kind she could be when Beverly had asked to drive her to her father grave, something she hadn’t wanted the boy’s or even Leroy Hanlon to know about.

“Classic Wentworth,” Richie said between a bite of pizza, not bothering with the plates laid out on the table.

“Don’t be disgusting Richard,” Stan chastised, face pinched.

“Gross no one wants to see that,” Eddie complained, “close your mouth!”

Richie only chewed louder, opening his mouth and smiling at Eddie in response.

Mrs. Tozier laughed at the exchange before nodding at her son and smirking as Wentworth walked in, having probably heard the teens walk in.

He placed a kiss on Maggie’s check before grabbing a plate, piling it three slices high. Wentworth had waited till they all came in to eat. “Is she still going on about it?”

“Yup,” Richie said, ratting his mom out immediately.

“I see Richie still can’t keep a secret,” Stan muttered, sharing a look with Maggie. “It’s the mother mouth,” Maggie replied solemnly, before breaking out into a grin.

“Mom,” Richie yelped.

“Character backstories are serious business,” Wentworth insisted as they all sat down around the table covered with the last remnants of his attempt to take up knitting, “or else we end up getting derailed-“

Maggie raised an eyebrow.

“not that spontaneity isn’t fun and often lead to great on the spot ideas but not everyone can make things up on the spot that aren’t utter shit. That takes creativity and imagination and some people take time. Y’know. We can’t all be as amazing as you my dear.”

“The pizza’s great honey,” Maggie told him, knowing how long her boys could ramble on for if no one stopped them.

“Of course it is,” Wentworth said, smirking, “I made it.”

“Gross,” Richie whined, “you’re embarrassing me!”

“I think it’s adorable,” Ben mused.

“Of course you do,” Richie sneered, “you’re the one who always makes us watch pride and prejudice!”

“Don’t slander that movie in front of me,” Ben retorted.

*

Mike was the only one of their friend group with a car, so he had the task of driving them all back home, starting with Eddie, who’s mom was still uneasy with letting her son out of her sights for too long. And Stan hated staying over at Richie’s because he spent the whole night having to listen to Richie’s late night ponderings about whether feelings have feelings and pixar and he couldn’t sleep when it was day so he’d rather just go home.

They rode back to the farm in radio silence, Otis Redding’s soft crossings filling the beat up old Honda civic from before they were born.

It had been a sixteenth birthday gift from his grandfather, who heavily implied that it was time for Mike and Beverly to drive themselves to school because he had enough to do at the farm without driving them both to and from school everyday. The rest of the Hanlon's felt similarly, with Star believing that waking up and going to school before the sun came out should be illegal.

Beverly was exhausted from swimming, more than framework exhausted her. It had been a long time since she’d truly been tired from helping out on the farm, instead of just ready for sleep. 

“Have you thought about college,” Beverly said in an uncharacteristically soft voice.She had done the most to avoid talking about what would happen after graduation, wanting to extend the time she had left with her friends and adoptive family. “I mean, if Ben’s going to some fancy pants private university,” she trailed off.

“I’ve got an offer from Maine State, but you already knew that,” Mike said with a shrug, “I guess I’m just going to apply to the schools I want, nothing to farm from here because I want to be able to visit on breaks. I know I want to do a literature or english major so there’s that. Who knows what I’ll do with that, or what grandfather will say.” He looked over at Beverly and they both broke into laughter knowing very well what Leroy thought about the humanities.

“Probably something about being broke in New York, homeless and begging for money,” Beverly said. “Or that you should be a lawyer.”

“Well,” Mike replied, “he’s not wrong about english major’s but it is my life.”

“True.”

“And,” Mike said, sighing, “I’ll be so freaking in debt after no matter what I study.”

Beverly had nothing to say to that, no answers to the boy who had helped her so much when she had needed it, who was always there for her. Her brother as far as she was concerned.

She cranked up the volume as _try a little tendernes_ s came on.

*

Unsurprisingly, the rest of the family was asleep by the time they got home except for Uncle Chiron and Cousin Star who had the graveyard shifts for the psychic hotline around here.

“Grandpa said you better do doubles yesterday,” Star teased, “pull yourselves up by your own boot straps and all.” She had graduated high school three years ago and had taken accounting and tax classes at the community college, never one for school, it was the most she had been able to force herself to do. Her mother had insisted on knowing something other than magic she could rely on.

Beverly snorted, “oh no, my poor back!”

“Will you fools be quiet,” Uncle Chiron snapped. It was hard to keep track of how the Hanlon’s were all related. They usually went by whether you grew up in Derry or were from an outside branch. Chiron had moved here back when Shirley had gotten sick from California, which felt as far as India to Beverly who had never even been to the beach. “I’m trying to make money here and the water won’t tell me what this soccer mom wants to hear unless y’all let me concentrate.”

Witches were like that, they helped their own.

“Sorry,” they all chorused.

Star giggled, dipping an oreo in her glass of milk, before the second phone line rang and she picked it up, smothering her giggles and putting on her best costumer service voice.

The only times Beverly felt out of place was when they worked their magic. She never tired of watching. And she could tell glamours and where the traces of magic remained, but she could never do any magic of her own. It was heavy weight in her heart. 

“Good night Bee,” Mike whispered, going to his room as Beverly went to hers which she shared with Star.

The glow in the dark stars gave out enough light for Beverly to avoid all the shoes and clothes they had both left scattered on the floor, that Auntie Desireé _always_ complained about, and to her bed, still unmade.

She fell asleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once i'm not doing Richie dirty and giving him nice and caring parents like in the book.


	3. bulbophyllum.

_**1718** _

The meal was surprisingly not awkward.

Like William had guessed, his father had declined the invitation, and his mother had preferred to stay behind, so he had shown up alone, glad to be out of the house for once. It would have been better if it had not been winter and he could spend his time outdoors instead of feeling like he was imposing on his neighbors.

It started off more sober then he would have liked, with Elizabeth’s mother bursting into tears just as they sat down, covering her face with a handkerchief that her daughter had embroidered.

“I’m sorry,” she told them all, “It’s all too much. I can’t do this right now.” Excusing herself, and her husband went home with her, both clutching their remaining children, all dreadfully young.

“Well then,” Andrew had said, not sure how to salvage the night as his maidservant plated the squash soup, perfect for a cold winter day, trying and failing to appear unshaken by his sister-in-law’s outburst.

Graciously, Robert stepped in, from his seat next to Will. Auburn hair glinting copper in the little light that entered from the papered up windows. In winter, the sun set all too early in Derry. “Oh Mr. Ripsom, do not worry about her, she’s trying, but I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to deal with such a loss and no answers. Time will sooth her wounds,” he said, taking a spoonful of soup, “it must be a tremendous help having such an understanding family.”

William thought he was laying it on a bit thick, but clearly it worked because the tension eased and Andrew started rambling on about a cousin’s sister who had been alone to deal with female hysteria. He had to smother a snigger, but from the corner of his eye he could tell that Robert was grinning right back at William.

It was a betrayal of old family friends, who he had known his whole life for this virtually unknown stranger, but Robert was-

“-I personally find small towns charming,” Robert said, “especially this one. Rarely does one find such kind people.”

- _interesting_.

“Ah but cities are the place to be for young people,” Andrew cut in. “I’m sure you must miss the hustle and bustle of London.”

“The best thing about London are the dances and hunting season, but I’ve heard that nothing compares to the hunting in the colonies.”

“Our dear William brought down a buck in the fall,” Andrew bragged for him, for himself, “we had Venison stew for weeks.”

“A rare man that would share with everyone,” Robert said, addressing William directly for the first time that evening, his gaze pinning him down, weighing his worth.

“It wuh-would have gone b-b-bad if I had not,” William admits, ducking his head, not used to being complemented after the rough last few months, “it w-was tuh-too much for just my family.” Which was the truth. He hadn’t even considered keeping all the meat, not when he knew how harsh winters are, and knew everyone by name.

“How practical of you,” Robert said archly.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, sitting up and meeting Robert’s gaze by his side head on, “It w-would have bb-been tuh-terrible to waste t-th-that meat, and dis-srespectful to the dead animal.”

“How like a savage of you,” Andrew said with a chuckle.

“I agree,” Robert said, wiping his lush red lips before taking a long drink from his wine, “one musn’t waste. _Waste not, want not_.” The starched white cloth cam away stained red.

William swallowed thickly, forcing himself to look away.

Mr. Ripsom sobered up almost instantly.

“Forgive me if you feel like I am imposing, but I would love to go on a hunt with you,” Robert said, words heavy with meaningthat William felt inadequate to unravel. He felt like a boy playing at being a man, a feeling that had plagued him since he had been too old too muck around in the dirt, but too young to be taken seriously.

“It’s winter,” Mr. Ripsom said much too casually, laughing, “not fall my boy.”

Gazing into Robert’s intense eyes, William found himself saying, “I can’t p-promise that we will f-f-find muh-much at this time of y-yuh-year, but we can g-go if you’d like. There’ll be maple t-trees for sure.” Georgie loved watching the syrup leak out of the trees before sticking his fingers in and sucking on the sweet maple syrup.

Georgie _had_ loved watching the syrup leak out of the trees before sticking his fingers in and sucking on the sweet maple syrup.

“We’ll have to find a suitable time,” Robert said, smiling, “perhaps an overcast day when the sun isn’t melting all the tracks?”

“Not too overcast,” William added, smiling, “You do need s-sunlight in order t-to see.” Hunting by firelight was to be avoided in the winter as much as possible, not for the animals, but for the indian tribe that shared the woods with them.

Robert merely raised an eyebrow, while smiling tightly.

“You’re too nice my dear William,” Mr. Ripsom said, redirecting the conversation to a more suitable area for himself. “Isn’t he just like I told you,” he said, glancing at Robert as he cut into his chicken.

“Very much so,” he responded, glancing at William, smiling much like pleased cat, “Though I’m not surprised.” Robert turned to Andrew Ripsom, where he would keep his attention for the rest of the afternoon. “I have found you to be a man of your word, and you did say _our_ dear William was a most engaging young man.”

Andrew smiled, pleased with himself, before regaling them with a tale of his Harvard years.

*

It was two weeks before William had time to make good on his promise to Robert. The promise that had weighed heavily in William’s thoughts since he had made it, the heavy look in Robert’s eyes swimming in his thoughts. He hadn’t know how to approach the man who had been to such places as England and Philadelphia while William had scarcely been ten miles from where he had been born. Need had he been so self conscious around someone, not even when his mother had bathed him last fall, mind muddled by fever.

Since the dinner they had not had much occasion to interact aside from church, where Robert had sat behind William, taking the time when they stood up to whisper about London, about the night hunts they would have with a pack of sleek hunting dogs, his breath grazing the back of Williams neck, sending a shiver down his spine. And the occasional greeting while passing by, when he was busy on his father’s errands or buying his mother’s grocery list that she could never seem to remember to get, or even wanted to go into town for. 

The next Sunday, and one of the rare days when the sun shone for more than a few mere hours behind a thick wall of clouds, William had been a bundle of nerves, not sure whether he wanted to see Robert or not, palms sweaty. His mother had even slipped out of her hazy long enough to cup his face in her hands and ask if he was all right.

William hadn’t had a satisfactory answer for her, or himself.

But Robert had not shown up. Disappointment bloomed bitterly in his chest no matter how much William pushed it aside. And he couldn't bring himself to ask Mr. Ripsom about Robert, as if voicing his tumultuous thoughts would be too much, would make them true.

It was Tuesday by the time William had made up his mind, having spent all of Monday making copies of the business deals and clearing the accounts as his father departed for the town’s meeting hall. It was sparsely used during the winter time after the christmas dance except for town meeting of which only the councilmen were privy to.

The week had been overcast and William decided that he would finally make good on his promise to the handsome Englishman, though from what he knew, red hair was an Irish trait. It suited Robert, William had thought to himself, reflected all the difference separating the small townsfolk from the man.

William had to wonder what had drawn the man to this far into Maine when all the cities were located further south. Maine was still Indian country. Just twenty years ago what had been the village Portland had been destroyed in William’s war. And if the man sought small towns, there were plenty of those in-between the great colonial cities, or so he had heard.

Leaving that train of thought for later, William Denbrough paid an early morning visit to the Pastor’s house. It was early enough that the Pastor was still out at the church giving the daily sermon before Prudence Marsh took over for the mothers while they got in their weekly knitting or what have you. It was women’s affairs that Elizabeth had only ever teased about.

The Pastor’s maid opened the door, she was an Irish girl, or had been, when she had first arrived, now she was six and twenty and her debt would soon be paid so she could go join her family in Boston. She had the same terrified expression on her face that his mother had when they hand’t found Georgie, frozen in the expression one makes right before they start screaming and crying.

William asked for Robert.

Nessa Lynch raised a trembling finger, pointing towards the parlor, but didn’t move to follow. He had always known about Irish superstition, but had never given it any credence as his father had discouraged anything that wasn’t verifiable fact. In Derry, the Denbrough’s library was unparalleled.

Wanting to put distance between himself and the terrified woman, he walked right into the parlor.

Robert Gray sat on the Ripsom’s sofa wearing a smart suit with a distinct european air, suitable to the english lords his father so railed against. A newspaper that must have been at least a month if not more out of date in hand, he looked up as William entered, rising when he realized who it was, lips turning up slightly. Robert was just as pleased he felt. Somehow, that made all his unfathomable emotions appropriate. Maybe it was just the lack of male companionship of his age. Maybe this would all go away once he was at Princeton surrounded by other young men.

“William,” Robert said coyly, “what brings you here?” Again William felt thrown of kilter, a player in a game he didn’t understand. Felt as small as he must look in front of the taller man.

Earnestly William persisted on with his original intent, “About t-th-that hunt, y-you wuh-wouldn’t hap-p-pen to be up for it today?” He wanted answers. Why here? Why now? Why him? And Robert was the key to all of them.

Robert chuckled, raising an eyebrow, “before tea?”

His skin burned, and William couldn’t help ducking his head, looking away from Robert, “well juh-just in g-general.” He should have thought this through more. shouldn’t have appeared unannounced. After all it _was_ winter, Robert could have been joking.

When Robert didn’t respond, William forced himself to look back at the man, only to find him staring right back, meeting his eyes unflinchingly, a teasing smile that made his eyes twinkle with mischief, waiting to see what he would do. Relieved, he continued on with his line of pursuit, “and it is overcast.” Something Robert had specified which was as strange now as it had been then.

Old world rumors had no place in the new world. Had no place rolling around in William’s mind, his thoughts coming right up to the stories before he forced himself to ignore these very thoughts.

The rumors came to mind no matter how he wished to ignore them.

_He thrusts his fists and still insists he sees the ghosts._

Smirking, Robert easily responded, as if waiting for William to catch up, “I’ll get my hunting boots then.”


	4. j'ai demande a la lune.

_**2019** _

Mike and Ben walked out into the sauna that was derry in the summer, leaving the wonderful library and even more wonderful air conditioning behind. Though light of actual books, Ben’s phone was now full of screenshots from old documents that no one could check out and even getting his hands on had been more than enough paperwork to put most people off of it.

Ben was convinced it had been made that way on purpose.

Photo copy of the map of old Derry in hand, Ben let his boyfriend lead the way back to the car. “Put that thing away,” Mike said fondly, trying hard not to laugh at his boyfriend, “you’re going to walk right into traffic.”

Ben shrugged, “it’s just really interesting. You don’t think of Derry as having been here forever, of walking and living in a place where people have lived for hundreds the way you do London or old-“

“Yes,” Mike quipped, giving Ben’s hand a gentle squeeze, “you went to London once. We know. I know. The whole town knows.”

“I’m just saying,” Ben said, flushing pink, “looking at this map and realizing that some of the streets have been here for hundreds of years makes history feel more tangible.” He’d always loved history, even back when it had been called social studies he would read ahead in the textbook. No wonder Ben got bullied from school to school when he was younger. He was a nerd.

Mike couldn’t help but lean over to Ben and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek, “I know what you mean my fellow book lover.” It was a bold move in the still conservative Derry, but Mike didn’t care. He’d spent so much of high school pinning and reading into every brush of his hands against Ben when they’d get together and study for hours until the library was closing that now all he wanted to do was show how much he loved and appreciated his boyfriend.

“Like,” Ben said motioning to the main road on the map, the only real cluster of homes back when it was still a township, “here’s the old main road that’s not the main road anymore because so much of the lot is still owned by the Denbrough family and they wouldn’t sell so back in 1884, when the town really started to grow, they just decided to move main street and renamed the old main street Neibolt street.”

This time Mike couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, “can’t wait to see you doing history specials on PBS.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Ben said without any real heat, “I told you that in confidence.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Mike told him, “I loved watch those specials too. I even have planet earth on dvd.”

“I know you do and I love you for it.”

“Oh so that’s why you’re dating me.”

Ben laughed, “that’s just a perk.”

*

Everyone was already sitting down in their favorite corner booth in the back by the time they got there. The bike rack outside was full of the same dogged up bikes they’d all had since middle school. Mama’s dinner was the only place in town that was open real late every day.

Not that they’d be out late tonight since it was the full moon.

“How was the library fucking nerds,” Richie said as soon as he spotted them.

“Yeah,” said Beverly in her best early 2000s mean girl voice, “who the hell studies in the summer.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said, kicking Richie’s arm off him, “just shut up asshole.”

“You have to forgive Eddiekins,” Richie said with mock sincerity, not even trying to whisper, “it’s his time of the month.”

He yelped as Eddie hit him in the stomach, “I said shut the fuck up,” he hissed.

“God, you two are unbearable,” Stan sighed from the furthest spot from the two, using Beverly as a shield from them.

“They’re justpws-ing,” Beverly said with a snigger, coffee stirrer in between her fingers like a cigarette.

“Tell me about it,” Stan smirked.

“Guess we didn’t miss much,” Mike said, sliding in next to Richie and trying to mentally prepare himself.

“Spagetti’s mom keeps calling my mom,” Richie told the group, “and asking if we’re staying in like we always do,” he broke off laughing as he air quoted _always_ , “like we’re really going to say no. We’re going to let her precious baby eddiekins out and about.”

Eddie smiled, looking forward to scratching the itch the built up as the moon got closer and closer to being full.

“So she still doesn’t know,” Mike said with a raised brow. Personally, he had always been more of the honesty is the best policy variety.

“Are you fucking kidding,” Eddie snorted while taking a drinking from his strawberry milkshake, “she finds out, I go right back to-“ He looked around to make sure no one was listening, “I go right back to spending full moons locking the our fucking basement like a dog that hasn’t been housebroken!”

“It is a creepy basement,” Stan agreed, “ like something out of hoarders buried alive.”

Richie snorted so hard some of his mountain dew came out of his nose. Mike smacked his back, shaking his head as Richie took mouthfuls of air. “and that’s a bad thing?”

Eddie’s response was lost as the waitress came up to them, “are you ready to order,” she asked the newcomers, Mike and Ben.

“Yeah,” Mike said, smiling politely, “I’ll have the strawberries and cream pancakes.”

“And I want the grilled cheese and tomato soup,” Ben added.

“What are you,” Stan hissed, “five?”

Beverly kicked his foot under the table.

Ben ducked his head, focusing on a random spot on the floor as Mike squeezed his hand under the table. _It’s okay. You did good. I love you._

*

Sonia Kaspbrak drove Eddie over to the Tozier house. There was still an hour before sunset, but Eddie couldn’t sit still.

Mike and the rest of the Hanlon family were probably getting ready to charge their rocks and crystals or whatever it was that witches did on full moon nights. Mike had been tight lipped about what exactly went on during those special magic nights.

The rest of the loser’s were gathering at Ben’s house to watch movies and sleepover.They probably were still buying snacks at target like they usually did.

“Baby you need to sit still,” his mom said, glancing at him in the mirror, “fidgeting isn’t becoming of a young man.”

“Yes, mommy,” he replied automatically.

As they pulled up to the house, he was stuck by all over again how it looked exactly how you would think a home where Richie Tozier cam from would, from the space blue paint to the diy’d kraken mailbox. It was a home.

And Maggie Tozier was already waiting on the curb in another one of her big flowing dresses that swallowed her slight frame and looked right out of a fairytale book about tiny fairies that wore clothes made out of leaves and flowers. Sonia had hated her on sight, and hated her more when she realized that she could help Eddie in ways Sonia would never be able to.

He sealed himself to play out the charade they always did, dancing around words that sent his mom’s heart rate rocketing up.

“Margaret,” Sonia Kaspbrak said stiffly.

“I’ve told you to call me Maggie thousands of times,” Maggie said warmly, never letting Sonia’s disdain bother her as they waited for Eddie to get his backpack and blanket out of the car. “Come inside, I made gluten free and dairy free bran muffins.”

Sonia pretended not to hear her.

Eddie dragged his pillow along and kissed his mom goodbye.

“Keep him safe,” Sonia said softly to Maggie, finally breaking and looking more lost and fragile than Eddie could imagine seeing his mother, the same woman that would scream at doctors until they checked up on him in emergency rooms, looking.

“Of course,” Maggie replied, taking the blanket and pillow from Eddie, “I’d die before I let something happen to the boys.”

Sonia nodded. “I’ll be here at seven sharp. Sharp Eddie.”

“Yes, mommy.”

How much of her anxiety and over protective tendencies stemmed from not knowing how to raising a werewolf, he’d never know, and though she’d done her best, Eddie was glad to have the Tozier’s to spend his full moon nights with until he finally got the hang of transforming at will.

She didn’t drive off until she watched them enter the house, door only half painted as none of the Tozier’s had wanted to finish the painting they’d started.

“There really are muffins,” Maggie told him, “but they’re banana chocolate.”

“Did you hid some from Richie?”

“Otherwise there wouldn’t be any left.”

He dumped his things on the couch and followed his nose into the kitchen catching Richie in the act of stuffing his face full of muffins. “Richie!”

“What,” he mumbled as he chewed.

“Richie!”

“I saved you one,” Richie said, pointing at the last muffin in the tray.

“Yeah right,” Eddie huffed, “that’s just the leftover one you didn’t get to.”

“Do you not want it,” Richie said feigning innocence.

Hackles raised, Eddie launched himself across the kitchen at Richie, mind going animal blank, tackling Richie to the ground.

“Not in the house boys,” Maggie said, stealing the muffin for herself while watching the boys wrestle on the ground. “This floor is original or old or something.”

This close to the full moon, Eddie found it easier to give in to his instincts, those inbred impulses his mom had spent so much time getting him to ignore, to bury deep down in shame.

The smell of the Tozier home, forever smelling of taken bread and the vinegar Wentworth used to clean, the blood racing through Richie’s veins, heart beating wildly under Eddie as he tried to keep the smaller boy from pinning him down. What Eddie lacked in brute strength he more than made up for in sheer will.

His whole body relaxing into itself.

“Listen to your mother,” Wentworth added, already sitting outside, barefoot in the wild grass growing in the backyard. The Tozier house backed right up onto the regional park. It was the furthest house from town out of all the loser’s home, and had privacy in spades.

Eddie had half the mind to take off running to the river, laying on his back as the water cooled him down. He could do it. It wasn’t _that_ far, even on two legs instead of two.

Even with his asthma that wasn’t really asthma.

His heartbeat was just like that.

With a knowing smile, Richie called out before shoving him out of the way, “race you to the river!”

“Richie you fucking cheater,” Eddie said not wasting a second before taking off after him, kicking his sneakers off as he went. Ignoring the two adults he could sense right at his back, he’d know them anywhere.

_pack._

Then it was green and the crunching of leaves and grass under his feet. Barreling past the trees, keeping the lankier boy in sight, following the trails that might as well have been marked to Eddie’s senses to the riverbank, to the pooling water in the quarry.

It wasn’t like the movies, or the books. It didn’t hurt.

The wolf and him bleed into each other, bled together until they were one. The wolf was Eddie and Eddie was the wolf and then he was running of fours. He couldn’t pinpoint when the change had happened. Just the impression of wanting his clothes off, wanting to be free of the restricting and just run.

_Just be._

_He dived into the water after Richie._

_Paddling out to him._

_Rolling in the dirt._

_Pinning Richie to the ground yet again._

_Letting him nip his ears._

_Trotting after Maggie._

_Running and running and running and everything finally fitting_

_his body relaxing into itself._

He smelled it, heard the almost inaudible movements before the panic set in. His animal brain recognizing a predator before he could and sent him running to _safe safe safe._

Wentworth howled.

Run. Run. Go.

Richie at his heels, just as panicked as he was while Maggie slipped in front of him to led the way. The woods had always been theirs.

alpha predators in their own right.  _by the light of the moon._

Eddie halted, looking back, ears straining to pick up more.

Maggie nudged him as Richie whined ahead of him.

He faced himself to follow them home.

Not stopping again until they entered the safety of the Toziers den. Den not a basement. Maggie shifting back to let them in and lock the door behind her before curling up with the boys in a nest of blankets and pillows that had to be mended every month.

Richie whined.

Eddie muzzled into his side, before closing his eyes and collapsing, exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres a hella lot of backstory with eddie being a werewolf and richie's werewolf family that i dont think will make it into this fic. theyre both born werewolves tho. thoughts?


	5. teeth.

**_1718_ **

Robert was more fit to trudging through the woods then William would have thought of a city man, easily wadding over the packed down snow and avoiding the softer and deciding snow. He kept up with William easily and he had to admit he was annoyed, having wanted to show Robert how adept he was in these woods. These were after all the woods he had grown up hunting in, playing at french and english soldiers, scavenging for the juicy fruits the bloomed like they must have in the garden of eden during spring and summer. William had wanted to show off, just a little, to the far more cultured man who had seen places William had never imagined or considered visiting.

They found no signs of life except for birds which were far too small to bother with. “Was Princeton your choice,” Robert asked, breaching the peaceful silence that they had adapted once in the woods, enjoying the tranquility that was nature untamed. “Because I had been led to believe that all men of consequence go to Harvard in the colonies.”

“N-not like there’s mm-many choices,” William shrugged. It had all been arranged for him. He was to study, marry, and return home to farm the well endowed parcels of land his father had purchased in this colony. William told Robert as much.

“Funny,” Robert said, nose scrunching up, “that doesn’t sound at all like your idea.”

“Be-because it is not.I’m t-the only sss-son right now. It’s my lot in life.” Right now because Georgie was somewhere out there. Somehow. Mother’s always knew, and his mother wasn’t wrong.

“Well what would you do if the choice was yours?”

William shrugged, finding they were now walking aimlessly, having long given up the pretense of hunting. He didn’t mind it. His brother hadn’t had the patience to trudge through the woods risking frostbite and getting lost. How Ironic.It was something he alone in his family enjoyed. And he didn’t mind his companion at all. “I’d like to w-write, something like that. F-ff-fill a house with more b-books then I could ever read,” he smiled at Robert, feeling oddly at ease. Like all the thoughts that had been laying just under the surface of his mind, where he hadn’t paid any mind too were rushing out. William had never thought about what he wanted, but he didn’t have to, he already knew. “I’ve heard London has mmm-many guh-great libraries.”

“More than you could imagine.” Robert supplied more tenderly then he thought the predacious man capable of.

Speechless, he could only watch the man, his skin almost as pale as the snow on the ground, lean and lithe the way William had pictured the great historical heroes to be. Copper hair tied back, unlike the disheveled state in had been in when William had arrived at the Pastor’s.

The englishman broke the spell, “so you said there were maple trees here?”

“Not m-many,” William admitted, not ready to go back and hand the man back off to Andrew Ripsom, “but I do know wuh-where s-some are.”

Coyly, Robert nodded, “show me.”

Ignoring all the thoughts swirling in his head, prices of a puzzle that he hadn’t been able to put together, he led the way, pausing until Robert caught up, brushing past him, grinning, making William grin in turn, until they were both laughing at each other. Nervous energy built up in his body and he had no clue what to do with it but overtime he looked at Robert, any doubt he might have had eased. It was easy. Being here with Robert felt natural.

It was a camaraderie William had never experienced. And now that he had, he never wanted to be without it again.

Not even with his brother.

William stuffed his hands in his pockets to minimize the risk of frostbite, having long been leeched of warmth by the cold wind, his fingers curling around the spindle he had brought just for this. “Aren’t yuh-you cold,” he asked Robert, eyeing his furred coat and startlingly orange and green tartan scarf. It clashed horribly with the reddish highlights in the coat.

His lips twitched but he just said, “it’s colder in London,” by way of explanation. “But thank you for worrying about me _dear_ William.”

“It w-would be awful if y-you got a cold and died all for m-mm-maple syrup.” It sounded like such a stupid way to die. William couldn’t help but laugh at that. And Robert must have thought the same because he chuckled, no matter how hard he tried to keep a straight face which only made William laugh harder, tears building up in his eyes. He hadn’t felt this happy in ages and his cheeks hurt from laughing.

They got to a maple tree near the town. The top of the church was just visible, but the trees were too thick to be seen from town, giving them a secluded space to stop in. William took out the spindle and grabbed a rock out of the frozen earth, ignoring the stinging in his fingers as he held the freezing rock. He jammed the spindle into the tree with the rock as Robert looked passively on, “yuh-you could helo?”

“You’re the host,” Robert said with a shrug, making no move to aid him.

William rolled his eyes and continued with his task, stopping at the hilt.

The Englishman strode over, “now what?” Clearly wanting to see the rich syrup dribble out of the tree. But syrup was thick, and slower now during winter then it would have been in the fall when families came out to gather it for the winter. But it wasn’t the same at the syrup straight from the tree.

“Now w-we wait.”

“I hate waiting,” the man admitted.

“T-trust me, it’s wuh-worth it.”

Robert looked skeptical, “if you say so William. But I’ve found the sweetest nectar, the nectar of the gods comes out blindingly fast.”

“I ss-suppose yuh-you do owe me,” William said, looking up at the man with a grin.

“I suppose I do,” Robert nodded, much too solemnly for what he had thought to be a lighthearted moment.

The maple sap came out tantalizingly slow, much too slow for them both, so William dipped his fingers in, standing up to pour it into Roberts hand, but Robert’s hand gripped his wrist, bringing William’s hand up to his lips and licking the syrup straight off his fingers, never breaking eye contact.

The blood rushed down into his trousers and William was a complete loss.

“Have I lost you so soon dear William,” Robert said, his smile all teeth, looking every bit the debauched angel he was.

He didn’t pull away, wasn’t sure he wanted to even with every alarm bell in his head ringing, that sixth sense telling him to go home and never look back. William ignored every instinct and let the taller man press him against the tree, press his lips against his, his body caging William against the tree. There was no warmth to be had.

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it might as well have been.

Robert was all hunger and frenzied passion, sucking on Williams lips, claiming every inch of him as he barely did more than not pull away.

And when Robert was finally sated, for the moment, for the lustful glint in his eyes was ever-present, how had William never noticed it before, he pulled back and walked off, leaving a very confused and unsatisfied William still slumped against the leaking maple tree.

*

Samuel Johnson, who was the middle son of the Johnson’s, about five miles from town was announced to be missing by midmorning the next day. He hadn’t been seen since yesterday after sunset.

*

After that William was crazy about Robert. Wanted to steal every moment he could and figure this out because he wanted more, more of that feeling, more time with Robert before he inevitably left.

So of course Robert was ever just out of his reach.

If William was arriving at the Ripsom’s, Robert was retiring. If William purposefully made to sit himself and his parents by the man, Robert would give up his seat as to not obscure the view which of course only served to endear him to the parrish, only served to get him invited to other homes.

It was the most frustrating game of chicken William had ever played. Wasn’t even sure that was what he was playing. But seeing as the man refused to be cornered into answering all the questions William had knocking about his head, he had no choice but to pursue.

*

Another of the Johnson’s son, the youngest this time, Alexander, only nine at the time went missing, this time during the night, right out of his own home. More whispers of witches snatching children from their beds went about, and a curfew was established by the councilmen in order to stem the flow of missing children.

Elizabeth had been the oldest, at seventeen, a year older than William.

Doors were locked for the first time in remembered memory.

“-if this continued,” George Marsh hissed in the Denbrough’s study while William listened in, “there won’t be any people left by next year! Something must be done!”

“If that something refers to digging up graves and drowning people in winter-“

“We’ve heeded your word Zachariah,” George Marsh retorted bitterly, “but the people are desperate and there are no answers to be found in your books of man and now we must resort to-“

“Barbaric superstitious that disturbs the dead,” his father said outraged. “If it truly is such nonsense as witches we must then trust in the lord to shield us from the devil!”

“That’s why he gave us ways to tell a witch from a good Christian!”

On and on it went and William found himself longing for spring and the promise of leaving this place behind. But the issue of Robert Gray still remained and he found himself reluctant to leave the man behind.

*

And then Nessa Lynch went missing on the first day in march, the day of the first thaw.

Unlike the others, her body was found, her face a mask of terror, the same as the day William had gone calling for Robert Gray. He had accompanied his father and the other council members in the investigation, a rather short investigation for there were no clues or tracks or traces of an attacker.

The funeral would be closed casket, once the ground thawed out enough to dig a grave.

And just like that the puzzle slotted into place.

The rumors were right. There was a vampire among them, and William knew who it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts?


End file.
